Weather on the wind
The pillars as they bend
There are markings
There are hanged kings

A diadem of toil
The counting off the loyal
Smoke in our lungs
And our charred tongues

Wind taker's wake
Felled with gilded grace

They're casting out the nets
And soon they're placing bets
Some are [growing?]
Others folding

The hand that draws the line
Grows weaker every timе
It's a black well
It's a vengeful knеll

Wind taker's wake
Felled with gilded grace
Wind taker's wake
Felled with gilded grace
Raven's plate
Buzzard's bait
Far too late
To satiate

Grain by grain
Separate, change of state
Nail by nail
Bend and break

Grain by grain
Separate, change of state
Nail by nail
Bend and break